Possibilities
by Wilusa
Summary: In separate talks with Ben, Libby and Ruthie learn some of his theories about New Canaan...and have unexpected thoughts of their own. Continuation of a series, but should make sense as a standalone.
1. Libby

DISCLAIMER: Carnivale and its canon characters are the property of HBO and the show's producers; no copyright infringement is intended.

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She sat alone, hugging her drawn-up knees, on the dirt floor of what she still thought of as someone else's tent. Her parents' tent, not her own.

On either the worst or the second-worst day of her life.

_I guess there ain't no comparin' the two._

_But today is the End Of All Hope. An' the End Of All Hope is a very bad thing._

She thought she probably should be crying. But there didn't seem to be any more tears left in her. So she just sat.

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_The letdown wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't been late. What, three or four days? But now it's streamin' along, just like always..._

She shuddered.

_Just like the blood must o' streamed outta __**him**__._

Her trusty period had probably saved her life on an earlier occasion, when it kept her from joining Dora Mae in the blow-off. That blow-off, before a too-rowdy crowd, had led to Dora Mae's being murdered.

But now she saw her "friend" as the enemy of life. Proof that her husband was really and truly gone, as if he'd never existed. No remnant left to grow and flourish inside her. No child to look up at her someday with _his_ eyes, gladden her heart with _his_ smile.

_My goddamn womb is just as empty as the other side o' my bed. Always will be._

_Is this my punishment for bein' a lowdown carny whore? If Jonesy'd had the kind o' wife he deserved, would she be carryin' his child?_

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Someone lifted the tent flap.

She was mildly surprised to see, not one of her parents, but Ben Hawkins. Watching her warily, he came into the tent. When she didn't object, he settled down beside her.

And they both just sat.

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When it seemed they'd been doing that for a ridiculously long time, Libby looked at Ben and asked, "Did Mama get you to come in here? To comfort me?"

"No. Matter o' fact, she thought my comin' in was a bad idea. She said you wanted to be alone, an' you'd prob'ly kick me out."

"Kick you out? O' course not!"

How could she possibly kick him out, after he'd performed a miracle to save Jonesy's life? It wasn't his fault Jonesy had died anyway, days later, because he was too noble to leave that bitch Sofie to fend for herself!

Then another thought struck her. "Why'd you come over here today, if Mama didn't ask you to? Is she tellin' my business all over the carnival again?"

"No, o' course she ain't. Leastways, I ain't heard nothin'. I just sorta, uh, sensed you were havin' a very bad day."

Libby pondered that for a few seconds. Then she blurted out, "Oh, Christ!" She scuttled away from him.

"What?" Ben looked bewildered.

"You got powers. You went an' _smelled_ my goddamn period, way over in one o' the trailers, didn't you?"

"No!" Now he looked appalled. "I can't even smell it from here, Lib. I swear!"

"Then why -?"

He sighed. "You ain't set foot outside the tent all day. Your parents ain't said nothin', far as I know, but they both look like the world's comin' to an end. I saw your mama cryin'.

"An' yeah, I think I did sorta feel somethin' troublin' you, worse than usual. But I can't be sure, 'cause them other signs were so clear.

"I figured it pretty much had to be that either you'd hoped you were pregnant an' found out you ain't, or you were pregnant an' lost it."

Startled, she thought about that for a few seconds. Then she said quietly, "Shit. I thought this was bad. But bein' pregnant an' losin' it woulda been worse."

She was still puzzled by Ben's being there. Moving a little closer, she observed, "You don't seem to be tryin' to comfort me." He didn't seem to be doing anything; he just looked glum.

He said slowly, "I don't think I should be tryin' to comfort you. Y'see -" He paused to weigh his words. "Like you said, I got powers. Sometimes I can help folks to feel calmer. To accept bad things that's happened to them, an' not despair.

"But that's a kind o' tamperin'. I think I should only do it when it's really necessary, to keep someone from...slippin' over the edge.

"There's no risk o' that here. You're a strong person. You ain't slippin' over no edge. You're feelin' exactly what you should be feelin' at this point, after the godawful crap that happened. Some things in life ain't meant to be easy."

"Huh." She studied his face, then said shrewdly, "You knew that before you came here. So why'd you come?"

He just sat there, seemingly at a loss for words.

"I _couldn't_ kick you out, could I? You're the boss now..._oh my God!_" She leapt to her feet and backed away from him, stopping only when she stumbled into the wall of the tent.

"What? What's wrong?"

"You're the boss! You came to tell me to get back to work - dancin', strippin', an' whorin'!"

"Oh shit. No way, Libby, no way!" He was on his feet too, eyes wide with horror. "You gotta believe me, Lib! There's no way I'd pressure you to do any o' that. Far as I'm concerned, you're Jonesy's wife, an' that guarantees you a home with this carnival. Always. Even if your parents decided to leave, an' you wanted to stay."

Reassured, she edged closer to him again.

Then he said softly, "Besides, you ain't seen _me_ doin' nothin' to earn my keep lately, have you?"

"You shouldn't have to!"

"Yeah, I should." His voice quavered slightly. He turned his face away, but she caught the suspiciously rapid blinking of his eyes. "My life is all messed up...but hell, there's no comparison with what you've been goin' through, losin' the person you loved. I got Ruthie."

"I'm glad at least that part o' your life is okay."

_Or is it? Is any part o' his life really "okay"?_

Libby felt a twinge of guilt: she'd been so absorbed in her own problems that she'd given no thought to anyone else's. Though everyone knew Ben had been devastated when he learned that his enemy was still alive in New Canaan, thousands of innocents dead. That defied explanation. Libby couldn't imagine what he'd try to do about it.

Was anything else wrong? The bitch Sofie was back with Carnivale...before Sofie left, Libby had heard a rumor that she and Ben seemed to be getting together. Apparently, by the time she returned, Ben was committed to Ruthie.

_Serves the bitch right. _

_I don't suppose Ben has any regrets. Ruthie has to be in her fifties. But he must love her, or he wouldn't be with her. _

_An' yet...she'll never be able to give him a child._

_Can a guy his age be content with that?_

A sudden thought took her breath away. _Oh my God! He can't seem to make clear why he came here today. But he knew I'm lonely - woulda given anythin' to have a child in my womb, an' don't have one._

_Could he possibly have come because he wants...__**me?**_

_Not to be his lover, not to replace Ruthie, but just to bear his child?_

She unconsciously backed away from him again, then groped for a chair and sank into it.

The idea was disgusting. Nauseating!

Or was it?

She _was_ lonely. _Empty._ Jonesy was lost to her forever, and she'd had sex without love often enough before...

But now Ben was saying, "Guess I'd better go." With an awkward nod, he departed as abruptly as he'd come.

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_Damn, that was just a crazy thought I had. He never intended any such thing._

_But what the hell was he doin' here?_

_Whether he's thought of it yet or not, it __**is**__ an idea worth keepin' in mind. Somethin' I could do for him, that Ruthie can't. Somethin' that would give meanin' to my life again._

And then she noticed the shadow on the tent.

The shadow Ben had cast on it, after he dropped the flap, had never moved. He was still standing there, hadn't taken a step.

She got to her feet, bewildered. But just as she was about to call out to him, he raised the flap and strode back in.

"Okay," he said crisply. "Truth is, Lib, I've been tryin' to decide whether to talk to you 'bout somethin'. I thought comin' over here might help me reach a decision.

"It didn't. But when I tried to _leave_, it was like - I almost _couldn't!_ I coulda tore myself away, but not easy. So I guess I am s'posed to have this talk with you." He stopped to catch his breath, then looked at her and said almost plaintively, "Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, sure." _Comin' from you. I know you ain't like other folks._

Ben sat on the floor again, and Libby dutifully dropped down beside him.

_**Is**__ he gonna ask me to have his baby? Or maybe, for now, just to think about it?_

"First off," Ben said quietly, "I need you to promise you'll keep what I'm gonna tell you secret. It's very important. Only a few people know about this situation, an' we ain't decided how to deal with it. Yet."

That threw Libby for a loop. A "situation" that only a few people knew about? Not what she'd been expecting, not by a long shot!

Frowning, she nodded.

"You're sure? You _promise?_ It may not be easy for you to keep this to yourself, 'cause you're gonna be real mad at someone."

"I promise, Ben." By now her interest was so piqued that she would have promised anything.

"All right, here goes. Sofie's been lyin' to us."

Libby could only stare blankly. "Wh-what?"

"You know what she's claimed. She told us Jonesy rescued her back in New Canaan, but Varlyn Stroud - a henchman o' Brother Justin's - was shootin' at them, an' killed Jonesy. She said she got away, ran, an' managed to catch the last Carnivale truck as we were pullin' out. She passed out in the back o' the truck an' didn't come to till later, when we were stopped for repairs.

"We're sure now that it didn't happen that way. She didn't catch the last truck. She followed us later, _drivin'_ the very car _Stroud_ had been usin' in New Canaan. She caught up with us while we were stopped, ditched the car, an' somehow got in one o' the trucks without bein' spotted.

"We ain't told her what we know...yet. So you can't let on."

"I don't understand," Libby said slowly. "Why did she lie? What does it all mean?"

"We ain't sure. But there's one possibility I thought of - not the only one, Lib, an' even if this is it, it wouldn't offer much more'n a sliver o' hope -"

"Hope? Dammit, Ben, what are you talkin' about?"

He took a deep breath. "Imagine this. It's after the carnival has left - 'cause it took Jonesy a long time to find where Sofie was bein' held, or to see a chance to try to rescue her. They're up in the hills somewhere, far away from, from" - he swallowed hard - "the _horror _in the valley.

"Sofie an' Jonesy are runnin', tryin' to get to Stroud's car, 'cause they know he left the key in the ignition. Stroud's runnin' after them, shootin'.

"Jonesy is shot, goes down. Sofie...Sofie just keeps runnin', jumps in the car an' takes off.

"The way I'm picturin' it, _she gets away clean_ _by_ _leavin' Jonesy_. She ain't really sure he's dead. She never stops to check. But she don't want us to know she abandoned him when he coulda been alive. That's why she lies."

Libby felt the tent spinning. For a few seconds, everything went black. But Ben's hands gripped her arms; she focused on them, and never quite lost consciousness. _Good thing we was sittin' on the floor..._

"I'm sorry," he whispered, drawing her into a gentle embrace. "You can see why I had doubts about tellin' you.

"Here's what gave me the idea. Once Sofie was _behind the wheel of a car_, there was nothin' stoppin' her from rushin' to the Mintern police, to report what Crowe an' his goons had done to her an' Jonesy. But for some reason, she don't want us to know she had the choice o' doin' that, an' didn't.

"The way she's tellin' the story - Jonesy dead, no hope o' savin' him - we wouldn't care whether she went to the police. If anythin', we wouldn't expect her to. I ain't never met a carny who trusts police.

"But her not wantin' us to know could mean that deep down, she feels guilty about not havin' gone to them. 'Cause she thinks the police _might_ o' gotten to New Canaan in time to save Jonesy."

Libby found her voice, and let out a string of curses. All directed at Sofie.

Ben rocked her, soothingly stroking her hair. "I ain't sure it happened that way," he reminded her. "It's just one possibility. But it is an idea that would explain her lyin'.

"If that is what happened, Jonesy coulda been dead when Sofie left him - she just didn't know. He coulda died later, from the wound. Or been finished off by Stroud. Or if the timin' was different, somehow, he coulda died from whatever killed them thousands o' Justin's followers in the valley." He was still holding Libby, and she felt a shudder run through him.

"I wasn't sure I should tell you this," he continued, "an' maybe give you false hope. _Probably_ give you false hope. But I think you have a right to know. An' there is that chance, however slight..."

Libby freed herself, so she could pull back and look at him. "Thank you for tellin' me, Ben," she said steadily. "Please let me know when you find out more. You can trust me to keep my mouth shut.

"If that _creature_ abandoned Jonesy" - a bit less steadily - "she deserves to burn in hell. But for now, for me...oh yes, a sliver o' hope is way better'n none!"

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Five minutes later Ben had really left, and Libby was once again huddled on the floor.

_Jonesy may be alive. An' here I was, already thinkin' about bearin' another man's child._

_Am I as wicked as Sofie?_

_Or...__**was**__ the idea so awful? Only the slightest chance he's alive..._

_Damn! Why can't I just have a beautiful new hope, without a new batch o' guilt feelin's to go with it?_

She laid her head down on her knees, dully wishing for tears that still refused to come.


	2. Ruthie

"You told her."

The reward for Ruthie's correct guess was her favorite thing in the world: Ben's smile.

"Yeah." He bent to plant a kiss on her forehead, then sat down beside her on the trailer steps.

_Good, _she thought. _He needs to get some sun._

And it didn't hurt that the narrowness of the steps required they sit very close together.

_Times like this, durin' the day, our life can seem almost normal. __**He**__ can seem almost normal._

But she knew that was an illusion.

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Ben wasn't well. The near-fatal wound he'd received in New Canaan was no longer visible, but it hadn't really healed. At least, that was what he believed. Even during the day, in the blessed sunlight that seemed to sustain him, he was often in pain. He tired quickly. And he'd lost his appetite; it seemed to Ruthie that he barely ate enough to keep body and soul together.

The nights were worse. Without fail, they brought intense pain, fever, and delirium. For reasons unknown to Ruthie, he imagined buzzards were trying to eat him alive. Night after night she nursed him through it, while poor Gabriel cowered in his corner of the trailer. When morning came, Ben and Ruthie were both so exhausted that they collapsed, locked in each other's arms, to sleep for half the day.

She'd heard the whispers - in some quarters, giggles - about her, in her mid-fifties, being shacked up with a nineteen-year-old lover. _Wonder what they'd think if they knew our sex life is zilch - 'cause __**Ben**__ don't have the energy for it?_ No one would ever learn that from her. Her love for him was decidedly sexual; and yet, she loved the whole person. Whatever he could give her was enough. More than enough.

She wondered at times whether his suffering was really caused by a magical wound, or by the guilt that was eating at him. _Damn Samson for puttin' ideas in his head! I'd like to throttle him._

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"How'd you know I told Libby?" Ben asked, as he fished out his pack of cigarettes and his lighter.

"Your walk. It looked decisive." She nodded acceptance of a cigarette, and paused while he lit smokes for both of them. "I reckoned that if you hadn't told her, it wouldn't o' been such a firm decision. You'd still be waverin'."

"Guess you're right." He stuffed the lighter in his pocket, sat back, and took a long drag on his cigarette. His free hand found Ruthie's, and he laced his fingers through hers.

_Mmm. Oh, yesss..._

Why did mere contact with his fingers excite her more than the full menu of sex with any other man?

Unfortunately, he was still thinking about New Canaan. Gazing into the distance, he said, " 'Course, I only told her what we talked about before. The idea that allows for a way Jonesy could be alive."

Ruthie frowned. "I know you got others. But -"

"What if he's dead, Ruthie - but he didn't die like Sofie told us?" Now he turned his head, and his troubled eyes sought hers. "What if Stroud didn't shoot him?"

"I don't like where you're goin'."

"Hell, I gotta face it. What if Jonesy died the same goddamn way as Justin's thousands o' followers? By the time Sofie left New Canaan, she must o' realized I got powers, same as Justin. Maybe she figures one or the other of us done all that killin', but she don't know which. An' she's been lyin' to protect me_._"

"If she has," Ruthie burst out, "she's as nutty as Samson! I ain't never bought into that notion o' his, that you somehow killed seventeen thousand people - while you were unconscious! - to avenge what you thought was Sofie's death. An' your sin brought Justin back to life, 'cause he's the personification of Evil? The whole idea's ridiculous!"

Her forgotten cigarette burned her fingers. She muttered an oath and disposed of it, grinding the butt under her heel. Ben, belatedly remembering his, grunted and did the same.

Then he said soberly, "Ruthie, there's somethin' I should tell you. Somethin' I shoulda told you before now."

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She felt a chill. " 'Bout Sofie?" She was careful to keep her voice neutral. _I knew somethin' was developin' between them before Sofie left. I'm sure Ben loves me, but maybe he loves both of us? He's managed to think of an excuse for her lyin' that would make her noble rather than selfish..._

_Damn, I shoulda brought this up myself, to make it easier for him._

He gave her a quizzical look. "Sofie? It does have to do with her, but mostly it's 'bout my powers..." His voice trailed off, and a hint of color came into his cheeks. "Were you thinkin' 'bout _me_ an' Sofie? 'Bout our, um, doin' stuff together?"

If his cheeks were pink, Ruthie suspected her own were crimson. "Yeah, I guess that's what I meant. I've been thinkin' for weeks that I oughta make this clear. If you care for her - hell, if you love her, even if it's her you want to be with - it's okay, an' you shouldn't feel guilty about it. I love you, but you ain't never been promised to me. Not even now."

_But if he wants to be with Sofie, will she want to be with him, with the problems he's havin'? If I let him go, will I be hurtin' him?_

Ben said quietly, "I don't love Sofie, never have. I love _you_."

She realized that was the first time he'd spoken the words. In fact, he sounded surprised, as if the truth had just dawned on him.

She wanted to grab him and smother him with kisses. But before she could act on that rash impulse, he said, "I did have sex with Sofie, though. Just once. Remember that night on the road to Damascus, when we stopped to pick up the folks from Daily Brothers?"

"Yeah, sure. But you don't need to tell me 'bout this, Ben -"

"I think I do. I was real antsy that night, 'cause I was in a hurry to get to Damascus. An' Sofie, for some reason, insisted on sittin' in my truck the whole time we were stopped. She said I didn't hafta stay there with her, but - hell, I think any guy in that situation woulda felt obliged to stay an' keep her company, no matter what she said."

Ruthie nodded. _Any well-mannered guy._

"So between bein' impatient to get movin', an' bein' stuck in that truck with Sofie for hours on end, while everyone else was partyin'..." He sighed. "I know that's no excuse. I ain't sayin' she seduced me. It was at least as much my fault as hers. But we did it, an' we warn't usin' a rubber. That caused me some worry later."

"I can see where it would." Privately, Ruthie was surprised he'd even heard of rubbers. "So...that was the night Sofie disappeared. Or rather, I s'pose she left the next mornin'. On what terms did you an' her part?"

Ben made a face. "I had to leave her in the truck, to go help Jonesy. Remember the storm? Had to batten things down. By the time I got back, Sofie was sound asleep in her trailer. Early next mornin', Samson an' me agreed I should take the truck an' go on ahead to Damascus. She was still asleep when I left."

Thoughtfully, he added, "She'd been coaxin' me to leave with her. Before we had sex, or were even startin' to get close. I guessed later that what she really wanted was the truck. If two people was to leave together in a stolen truck, an' Samson knew they could spell each other at the wheel, he'd prob'ly just let 'em go - not involve the law."

"Makes sense," Ruthie agreed. _An' it also makes me suspect Sofie did seduce him, even if he was too innocent to realize it._

"Anyway," he continued, "that made me worry 'bout her in New Canaan, maybe more'n I would have another hostage. For fear she might be carryin' my child, an' Justin might have some supernatural way o' knowin' it. But" - another grimace - "she ain't said nothin' since she's been back. An' there ain't really much chance I coulda got her pregnant. I was prob'ly shootin' blanks."

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Before the startled Ruthie could ask why he thought that, he moved on to something else. " 'Bout my powers...how much do you know? Samson may o' told you more than I have."

"I-I don't think so," she said slowly, as she tried to recall her conversations with Samson. "I know you have miraculous healin' powers." She smiled. "You saved Jonesy's life, prob'ly saved mine. An' your healin' Gabe's arm was real sweet." When Jonesy stunned everyone by revealing what Ben had done for him, she'd realized he must have used his powers to help her, too. Later, she'd gotten him to confirm it. He'd surprised her by telling her he'd also healed Gabe's arm - because he felt responsible for its being broken.

"Besides that," she went on more soberly, "I understand that you an' Brother Justin are somethin' other than ordinary humans. Avatars. You're Light an' he's Dark. He's a threat to the world, an' for some reason, it's you that's s'posed to fight an' destroy him. Management was like you, but older."

Ben nodded. "That's all true. But it's important you know this. Bein' what I am, 'Light' or not, I've done things I ain't comfortable with. Things _you_ won't be comfortable with.

"Management died in Damascus. I know Samson told everyone 'bout that. But have you ever wondered how he died?"

"Uh, no." She'd simply assumed that a recluse who never left his trailer must have been a feeble old man.

Eyes locked on hers, Ben said steadily, "I killed him."

_"What?"_

"He wanted me to kill him," Ben explained. "He was old an' ill. An' the way it works with our kind, my killin' him, with him not resistin', would give me all his knowledge an' power." He was quick to add, "I know I prob'ly don't seem smarter or stronger since then! But I do have a better understandin' o' what I am. An' without the strength he gave me, I prob'ly wouldn't o' survived New Canaan."

Ruthie swallowed hard. "He explained this business 'bout the knowledge an' power, an' asked you to kill him?"

"No. He was afraid that if I warn't upset, desperate to protect someone else, I wouldn't be able to go through with it. On account o' what he looked like. Not only was he old, he was missin' both legs and an arm. _And_ an eye, an' half his face!" Ben shuddered at the memory. "So he tricked me into killin' him by makin' me think he was tryin' to kill my pa."

"My God," Ruthie murmured. But then, shocked as she was, she pulled herself together and said, "It's all right. It don't make me think less o' you, if that's what you're worried about."

Ben managed a wan smile. "I told you that 'cause I wanted to make the point that even our kind, his an' mine - s'posed to be the good guys - ain't all sweetness an' light. There's more.

"When I heal someone, it causes injury or death somewhere else. With small healin's, that usually means I kill a bunch o' plants. Back when I fixed Gabe's arm, I didn't understand my powers like I do now. So I had him wade out into a pond with me, thinkin' we'd get away from plants an' the healin' wouldn't kill nothin'. Instead, it killed dozens o' fish!

"Healin' Jonesy required way more life-force - an' we were out in the desert, where there warn't no plants or animals. I made Libby get a safe distance away. Waited till he was close to death, with a dozen or more buzzards comin' in to feast on the remains. An'then I healed him, knowin' I'd kill all them buzzards."

"So that explains the buzzards," Ruthie whispered.

"Yeah, that explains the buzzards.

"When I healed folks in New Canaan, I was deliberately drawin' life-force from Justin. I knew that when he was that close, it'd come from him before it would anywhere else. I was tryin' to kill him without a face-to-face fight, but all I did was rile him."

He took a deep breath. "There's another power I have. Related to healin', but -"

"Wait a minute!" Ruthie cut in. "I don't see...where did this 'life-force' come from when you healed _me?_ I don't remember plants near the trailer..." Something in his face frightened her.

He said softly, "That's what I was gonna get to next. I didn't heal you, Ruthie."

"O' course you did! You admitted it -"

"No. You may not remember, but when you asked me 'bout that, I was careful what word I used. I never told you I healed you. I said I _saved_ you."

"Wh-what's the difference?" Suddenly trembling, she pleaded, "T-tell me what you mean! If you didn't heal me, what did you do?"

"All right." He took her hands in his, held them tight. "I have another power, Ruthie. I can...restore the dead to life."

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Somehow, she remembered where she was, and stifled what would have been a shriek.

But she must have blacked out for a few seconds, because the next thing she knew, she was in Ben's arms, and he was rocking her, mumbling over and over, "I'm sorry."

She clung to him as if he was her only anchor in the world. "I was _dead?_"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I shoulda told you sooner, found a better way -" His voice was muffled, his face buried in her hair. The powerful worker of miracles gave a very boyish sob.

x

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Ten minutes later they were both a little calmer. Ruthie sat with her head on Ben's shoulder, taking comfort from the arm that still held her tight.

Now she was ready to ask more questions. "How long was I" - about to say _that way_, she gulped and made herself use the fearsome word - "dead?"

Ben said quietly, "It must o' been 'bout twenty-four hours."

"Ye gods. Did Gabe know?" _My poor baby!_

"No. Not for all that time, anyways. But near the end -" He hesitated, then said, "Truth is, an hour or so before you came back to life, I gave up. Then I did tell him you were dead. I tried to be real gentle. But he didn't want to believe it. I guess, when you revived, he just figured I'd been wrong."

"I remember he seemed flustered. Poor baby! I was too confused myself to realize he was hidin' things." She nestled closer to Ben. "You've done even more for me than I thought."

Then, suddenly, she pulled away and sat up straight. "But...when, with all this goin' on, did you kill Lodz? Was it for the reason I guessed, that you figured out he'd put the snake in that bag?"

"I've been waitin' for you to think o' Lodz. An' no, it warn't for that reason. I didn't know he was to blame till Management told me."

"Management told you? But how -?"

"It ain't a pretty story," he said bluntly. "But before we get to Management's part in it...you know 'bout life-force bein' needed for healin'. Restorin' life that's gone takes more, not less.

"The only way I can bring a dead person back to life is by _killin' someone else_."

After a long silence, Ruthie whispered, "Oh my God."

"It warn't the first time I done it. The other time was sorta the same - I brought an innocent victim back to life by killin' the killer."

"That's why you were wanted for murder?" She hadn't seen the Wanted poster, but she'd heard about it.

"Yeah. That time, I just _knew_ what to do. Somethin' in my nature. But then I got so scared - o' what I am - that I convinced myself it hadn't happened that way. That the victim had never really been dead, an' I'd just struck out in anger.

"When you were dead, I couldn't admit that I knew how to bring you back." He shook his head, looking as if he could scarcely believe his own obtuseness. "I went to Lodz for help! He took me to talk to Management, an' Management told me I had to kill someone.

"But I couldn't kill an innocent, Ruthie. I tried to strangle a worthless drunk in Loving, an' I couldn't bring myself to do it. That's why I gave up."

She took his hand and squeezed it. "I'm glad. I'd hate to think you did somethin' really _wrong_, for my sake."

"But then Management told me Lodz had murdered you. He tried to deny it, but I could sense it was the truth. So I killed him."

Shuddering, she said, "Good riddance." _But why do I have the feelin' he's left somethin' out?_

"O' course," he continued grimly, "the reason Management knew was that he'd been in on it! Like I said, not all sweetness an' light. The whole thing was a plot to force me to accept an' use my powers. Management was tryin' to prepare me to fight Justin."

"So that's what you meant..."

"Huh?"

She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it. "When you were givin' me the brush-off, I accused you o' bein' scared o' somethin'. An' I remember your exact words. _Only thing scares me is folks usin' other folks, to use me_.

"That was it, wasn't it? They'd used me to put pressure on you, 'cause they wanted to use _you_. An' you didn't want it to happen again."

"Right," he acknowledged. "It woulda been a lot simpler for Management just to explain things to me, not work through that slimy Lodz. But he was afraid that if he had me in the trailer much, he'd give in to the temptation to restore his own health by drainin' me."

Shaking her head, she muttered, "Jesus."

"The reason I decided to tell you this now is that it ties in with what I'm afraid may o' happened in New Canaan.

"First off, I still don't remember that threat Samson says I made, 'bout doin' somethin' to the folks in the valley if Sofie was dead -"

"Then ain't it possible you didn't make it?" Ruthie was prepared to grasp at any straw. "I know Samson wouldn't lie 'bout somethin' like that. But Jonesy was there too, right? Couldn't he have mixed up which one o' you said it?"

"Thanks for tryin' to let me off the hook, but no. If Jonesy said it, I'd remember hearin' it. But I know, from what happened before, that my mind can play tricks on me when I'd rather not remember things _I've_ said or done.

"What I'm thinkin' now is that there may be more I don't remember. I know I passed out after I killed Justin. I was in the same spot, out cold, when you an' the other carnies found me. But I coulda come to after that, while folks were fussin' over my wound an' not lookin' at my face.

"When Justin thought he'd won, he told me Sofie was dead. I know I was furious. I _think_...I think I may o' tried to _use his death to bring Sofie back to life_."

Ruthie gasped. "You mean...she _was_ dead?"

He shook his head. "I ain't sure, not about none o' this. But I'm thinkin' that maybe she was dead. I tried to use Justin's death to bring her back. But I came to, in the Management trailer, an' sensed that it hadn't worked. That I couldn't use his death to revive someone _'cause I'd intended to kill him anyway_.

"An' _then_ I was so teed off that I reached out with my mind, brought Sofie back to life - but killed way more people than the one I needed to kill. Usin' what strength I had to do that coulda made me pass out again. An' like Samson said, my committin' a sin on that scale coulda brought Justin back."

Ruthie thought for a few seconds. Then she said, reluctantly, "Knowin' that you _can_ bring dead people back to life...this does seem more believable than Samson's idea, that had you doin' all that killin' for revenge. I don't like it, but I gotta admit it's possible."

Ben gave her an affectionate squeeze. "Thank you for bein' honest. It helps, somehow, just to be able to share what I'm thinkin'."

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They sat for another half hour, soaking up the sun. Ben's eyelids were drooping, and Ruthie held herself very still, allowing him to rest. But then a burst of noise from the midway jolted him back to alertness; she caught the tightening of his mouth that signaled a twinge of pain.

She waited until she was sure the spasm had passed. Then, gently caressing his hand, she asked a question that had been nagging at her while he dozed. "Ben, why do you think you can't father children? I've been regrettin' that I'm too old to give you one! 'Cause you're bound to be feelin' better, one o' these days."

That statement was delivered with a cheery optimism she was far from feeling. When he looked at her, the glint in his eyes told her he wasn't fooled.

But he promptly addressed the question. "I ain't sure I can't have none," he said slowly. "But I'm glad you already have a child o' your own, an' ain't dependin' on _me_.

"The thing is, there's prophecies that the Tattooed Man - that's Justin - will be the last Avatar. From the knowledge Management gave me an' the books he left, it seems our kind have always thought the Tattooed Man would be the last one born. Younger than the one who'd have to fight him."

Ruthie went rigid. "But that ain't so."

"No," Ben said heavily. "So I think the prophecies must really mean he'll be the last survivor.

"I hope that don't mean he's destined to defeat me. It might not. I've tried just to do my best, not fret over it.

"We will fight again, o' course. As for how I'm feelin' - for all I know, Justin may not be doin' no better'n me. Right now, I ain't sure whether I need a certain kind o' weapon, or how to get it if I do. But let's say that problem's solved.

"Here's a thought I've had. If we each wound the other - fatally - an' he lives a few minutes longer'n me, he'll be the winner. But if I wound him fatally, an' his goons kill me before he dies, he'll be the last survivor, but I'll be the _winner_, 'cause it warn't him that killed me. Does that make sense?"

Ruthie was squirming. "Yeah, I guess it does. But I hate to think about you dyin'!"

Ben said wryly, "I ain't crazy 'bout the idea myself. Another possibility is that Justin will only be the last Avatar if he wins. 'Cause he'll do somethin' that will actually wipe out humanity. No more Avatars, no more nothin'!

"But if there's a chance he can lose...I ain't found no prophecies 'bout more Avatars, so it seems our race is gonna come to an end, either way.

"If Justin fathers a son, or I do, they'll be Avatars. The least bloody way to account for the lines endin' is that we either can't father children, or just ain't destined to, no matter how many women we sleep with."

_The least bloody way?_ By now, Ruthie thought the afternoon sun wasn't providing much warmth at all.

"Are there many o' these prophecies?" she asked. "Are they ancient, or recent? Maybe you're puttin' too much stock in them."

He shook his head. "There must be hundreds o' them," he said morosely. "From all parts o' the world, all time periods. An' they're pretty much the same. All describin' a man with a dead tree tattooed on his chest, more tree tattoos on his back...a Dark Prophet who's destined to be the Usher of Destruction, the last of our kind. The Omega."

x

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x

For a moment, Ruthie wondered if she'd heard correctly.

_But I know I did._

_**Oh my God!**_

"Ben," she said in a suddenly shaky voice, "I ain't sure what that word means. But I think _someone other than Justin_ may be the Omega!"

x

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The End


End file.
